


Restoration

by ImhereImQuire



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Blood, Love, M/M, Oral, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 05:52:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 9,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImhereImQuire/pseuds/ImhereImQuire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike and Angel enlist Willow's help in permenantly and unconditionally fixing Angel's soul in his body, so that they can pursue a relationship (amongst other reasons).</p><p>Works as a sequel to The Prodigal Son Returns, but also as a stand alone fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“So… We’re really going to do this then? Tomorrow we take a stapler to your soul?” Spike asked, sounding excited. He knew it was the plan, but it still seemed more than a little surreal.

“Willow and I are going to do it, you don’t have to do anything except sit there-” Angel began

“I’m going to be taking the full force of how many years of repressed sexual tension? I’m not going to be walking for a sodding week. Sodding being the most emphatically stressed word in that sentence”

“Can you stop making it sound so sordid!” Angel exclaimed, sounding more than a little bashful.

“Fiiiiine. You’re doing this because… “Spike’s voice took on the neutral quality of a public service announcement narrator, not troubling to add even a trace of sincerity “Any chance of releasing your soulless self upon the world is too great a risk for you to subject the world to, so if there’s a means of removing that risk then you have both obligation and responsibility to…blah, blah, blah, won’t someone think of the children, s’all fun and games until someone massacres an orphanage, blah, blah, you need to stop indulging your massively masochistic urges so that you can start focusing on indulging mine, blaaaah…”

Angel looked at the blonde with vaguely incredulous bemusement. It probably wasn’t worth trying to point out the irony involved in the idea that he was having his soul secured in order to _facilitate_ the hardcore whips and chains session that Spike had apparently decided the most appropriate way to celebrate.

Spike held his disapproving gaze with a filthy leer “Keep a tally, and in a couple of days you’ll be able to spank me for every…single….transgression”. He stretched out, locking his arms behind his head, and Angel couldn’t help but smile. “Ah, boy….you know how turned on I get when you use polysyllabic words” he quipped.

“Trangression….consequential… lascivious…temptation…vociferous…temptation…disobedience… atonement…seduction” the blonde’s forehead creased, and he was clearly having difficulty thinking of suitable words “…Effulgence?”

The older vampire couldn’t restrain himself any further, collapsing into a laughing fit which would probably have given him an asthma attack if he needed to breathe, then they settled back down on the bed, lapsing into a comfortable silence that Angel was loathe to break, but duty demanded.

“Are you sure that you want to be there, when it happens?” he asked, trying to keep it light, lest he be accused of being ‘a melodramatic wank pot’.

“Why wouldn’t I? It was me who suggested it” Spike asked, but there was enough hesitation that Angel knew full well that the younger vampire understood what he was being asked. “You’ll only be without your soul for the length of the ritual, which won’t be that long, plus you’ll be behind bars. I’m pretty sure that I can handle it.”

Angel nodded, but didn’t feel certain; the idea of allowing Angelus out, however briefly had been giving him nightmares all week, and the closer that they came to the big night, the more convinced he became that this was a terrible idea. Spike had tried put a rational spin on it. It’s better to do it once, in a carefully controlled environment, that to live in fear of it happening for the rest of eternity, he’d said. Then given him reassurance, held his hand, made the promises he needed to hear. I won’t blame you for whatever you say while you’re not yourself. I already know exactly what you’re capable of, and it’s okay. I promise that if Willow can’t bring you back then I’ll finish things…that had been the hardest promise to extract from him, but Angel was adamant that he wasn’t going to let Willow attempt anything without it.


	2. Chapter 2

“Angel….” Spike began, curling up into his sire’s back, forehead pressed lightly into the other’s neck. The older vampire made a soft ‘Mmm?’ in response.

“Is there is anything… any old grudge, or passive aggression, or…well, anything that might come out tomorrow? Anything I should know?” the voice behind his ear was uncharacteristically…nervous? “I know how you get, and… it’s like you always taught me…” the blonde’s tone changed, and Angel’s own words came back to haunt him. “A truth, artfully exploited can cause a dozen times the suffering of even the most skilfully crafted lie”.

The younger vampire felt the shudder go down the other’s back, and felt ashamed of himself for pulling that out on his sire. The First had loved to quote his old words to him, and he remembered how much it hurt. “It’s okay” he said softly, consoling him in the same soothing tones he had gotten so much practice with when he was caring for Drusilla. “But if you tell me now I can be ready… it’ll give you less power if I’m prepared.”

Angel knew that his newly readopted fledgling was only being sensible… more sensible than he’d expected, truth be told, but admitting to the more unpleasant elements of his character to someone he loved was something that he’d never been good at.

“I know your old wounds, and he’s bound to exploit that. Probably, he’ll bring up Buffy… always Buffy.” Angel began, with a deep sigh, continuing in the flat, emotionally numb voice of someone reciting a shopping list; the only way he could force himself to continue at all. “That she only had you because she couldn’t have me. That she never loved you, and could never love you…. That you threw away Drusilla for a girl who didn’t care if you lived or died, and that getting yourself a soul was a dazzling betrayal more sadistic than anything that I..he.. ever did to her”

Spike tensed and closed his eyes. “Predictable enough stuff.” He said, with forced cheer. “Nothing I can’t handle.” Nothing I haven’t already accepted, he added mentally. “Anything else?” he asked, carefully.

“Anything that might persuade you to stop Willow and let him out. Angelus is not going to take kindly to the being permanently retired. Knowing that there’s not going to be a next time he’ll be afraid, and that’ll make him even more dangerous than you’ve probably ever seen him.” Angel said, and from the tone in the other’s voice it was clear that the conversation was over.

“It’s almost noon, love” the blonde, said placating the other with a light nuzzle between the shoulder blades. “You rest. After tonight, you’ll have an eternity of fun times ahead of you, and you’ll be able to shed that poncey, pretentious, Latin derived name forever. Seriously, mate, Anne Rice called; she wants to use it in her next book after you’re done with it”. He’d probably pay for that little insult tomorrow, but it was worth it for the small release of tension he felt in the back of his sire’s neck.


	3. Chapter 3

Spike left Angel sleeping; bizarrely his sire was able to get to drift of, and it was he who was too…nervous, terrified and generally excited to sleep himself.

“Afternoon, Red” he said to the witch in his kitchen, who was currently sat at the breakfast bar, bagel and cream cheese held in one hand, the other occasionally turning over a page.

 He’d expected a heavy, yellowing tome, and found it fairly disconcerting that she appeared to be reading from a stack of neatly stapled A4 printer pages, with a simple black cardboard cover “That a home brew, then?” he asked, nodding at the papers.

Willow looked up, smiled and performed a wavering gesture with her non bageled hand. “It’s kind of…. a new composition. Sorta based on the old Roma spell but…”

“Not condemning him to a poorly planned life of eternal torment?” Spike asked with an eyebrow raised. “Never understood why they threw that clause in the first place….I mean if they didn’t tell him about it at the time then it wasn’t causing him extra anguish… just a chance of early parole, which is the last thing that you’d think they’d go after”

Willow had the peppy look of someone eager to discuss a little understood element of a craft most people didn’t want to hear about. “It’s a curse thing, as much as anything” she explained “You probably think of it like if the curse was a piece of furniture then... extra twiddly bits and decoration?” she asked, and he nodded.

“But it’s more like…making a canoe”. He looked completely blank and she hastened to explain “It’s a lot easier to make a canoe if you’re not trying to make it waterproof…the conditions are kinda like …little holes that require plugging. Its like it is in fairy tales… magic kisses, guessing the creepy little gnome's name… the more conditions that there are, the less you need to work on…water tightness”

“And this is going to be water tight then?” Spike asked. He respected Willow a lot, trusted her even more than that.

“Like a dinghy” she said, then creased her brow “Pretend I said something more…durable.” She said, realising that she was probably mixing too many metaphors and failing completely. “Lots more durable…”.

They sat in silence for a moment, then both began to speak at once. “You go first” the redhead said, holding up her hands.

“Was just going to ask how you’re holding up. What with Kennedy and all. What went off there?... if you’re up for being asked.” he realised it was probably not his business and shook his head “Ignore me, pet. A century of being a sociopath…still sanding the rust off my subtly and tact skills” he apologised.

“It’s okay….I’m fine. I just rushed into things with her. It was too soon after losing Tara and…”

“Say no more. I know how that one goes” he said sagely. “What were you going to ask me?”

“Is he going to go back to Buffy after this? Because I promised him I wouldn’t tell her what we were going to try tonight but…” she looked guilty. “She’s one of my best friends in the world, and I don’t want her hurt with this.” She shrugged “I don’t even know what’ll hurt her more.. if he does, or if he doesn’t, but she’s doing so well in Europe”

Well that is the million dollar question, isn’t it? He thought to himself. That was what had been keeping him up the entire week. “I hope not” he said, and then, despite everything that he had promised to Angel about discretion leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper “It was me who told him to take his head of his arse and ask you for this” he said meaningfully.

“And after the way things went with you and Buffy….” She trailed off and Spike felt like banging his head on the table. “It’s not about me and Buffy. Or him and Buffy…”

“Then what’s the…oh! Ohhhh? Wait, what?” the redhead wasn’t quite so quick on the uptake, for a confirmed muff diver.

“Him and me… we’ve got all kinds of history. And if this curse gets lifted then I reckon maybe we’ve got a bit of future, too, know what I’m saying? Angel doesn’t want you to know, in case you pull out, but he’ll tell you the minute he goes all bad boy in leather pants, I would put money on it, so you might as well hear it now from me”

Willow almost dropped her bagel. “Buffy’s going to kill me…” she said, looking anxious.

“You’re making sure Angel never goes bad again. Buffy will want that as much as anybody. No one else has to know that you ever knew anything else” he swore, and Willow’s eyes darted back and forth then she nodded. “Okay”


	4. Chapter 4

As Willow passed him on the way to the basement he couldn’t help but notice that she looked…well, pretty dressed up for someone about to do a potentially messy ritual which they were hoping would conjure up a demon whose rap sheet included more rapes than the catholic church She’d actually scrubbed up a little from the afternoon he thought, and then the penny dropped. She knows Angel’s going to start picking at people’s insecurities, and whether she realises it or not she’s prepared herself. Made sense, given her general station in life seemed to be ‘the smart one, which was code for 'not the fit one'. She’d been flattered to have been thought of ‘in that way’, last time that he’d tried to bite her.

“Whatever he says… ignore it.” Spike whispered as he passed by her, and she nodded silently. He didn’t bother trying to convince her that it would be a pack of lies, but he knows that she’s had her own experience of walking on the dark side, and knew that it was always the truths that you’ve spent too long bottling up that came out first.

Angel was already down there, sitting in the reinforced metal cage that he seemed satisfied would hold him. “Is there no way you could… shut me up, first?” he asked, looking well and truly terrified.  ‘Shut me up’…That was a coquettish way of putting it, probably for Willow’s benefit. If it were just the two of them then Angel could probably have gotten very specific in his choice of gag…

“I’m sorry, Angel. The soul leaves through the mouth” she said apologetically as she began to set up.

“Have you ever seen Silence of the Lambs?” Spike asked the witch, and she looked up at him nervously . “It’s going to get a bit like that…but a lot less genial” he added, and she bit her lip.  He should probably stop scaring the girl, but he wanted to have her prepared for what was going to come. She was going to hold Angel’s soul in her hands metaphorically –at least he thought it was metaphorically-, and Spike didn’t want her jumpy.

“How’re you doing in there?” he asked, coming close to the bars of the cage.

“Been better” came the grim response. “Remember the promises you made me. “ Spike took a deep breath and nodded, then held up the crossbow. “I remember” he said softly. ‘You answer to me now’ he remembered and swallowed thickly. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to worse than singing ‘la-la-la I’m not listening’ while his sire knocked up his accent two gears to emphasise some particularly nasty comments related to cock size, slayers and motherly love.

“I’m ready when you guys are” Willow said quietly, cross legged on the floor, the various tools of her craft spread out on a plain red blanket in front of her.

“Ready to rock” Spike said, saluting with the cross bow, all false bravado.

Angel took a little longer, but after a while retreated to the furthest corner of the cell, sitting with his knees tucked in toward his chest. “I’m ready” he said, barely above a whisper.


	5. Chapter 5

The first part of the spell was where the dark mojo was really required. He watched the wee girl he had always thought of as soft hearted slit the throats of three white mice; not anything he was squeamish about, but the fact that she didn't so much as flinch when she smeared the blood along her wrists and temples managed to shock and disturb him. He didn’t know or particularly want to know too much of the specifics, but the gist of it was that she was calling up something nasty… the demon who first gave his essence to create their bloodline, exchanging life force in exchange for possession of the soul…Aurelius himself. This was serious shit, but the redhead seemed to have it in hand, and aside from a brief moment where her features morphed into something demonic, bestial - and he couldn't help but think, rather fetching- was otherwise untouched by the ritual.

When her fangs vanished he could feel his own face change, the demon working his front of house…and going off the growl coming from the shadowy recesses of the cell Angel’s had done likewise.

Then the room felt….quieter. Less charged. Whatever unseen presence had been in there was gone, and Spike held his breath. There was the odd but familiar noise he’d long learned to associate with the shift of features and when Angel moved forward it was with a disarmingly human face that he greeted them. “Is everybody okay?” he asked softly, blinking and rubbing his eyes. “I don’t think...I think something went wrong…” The older vampire held out both his hands, bloodstained and shaking, grasping the bars. “Spike? Are you alright?”

Spike took two steps toward the steel bars and stopped, holding two fingers up, his other hand signalling for Willow to stay well away. “Nice try. Very convincing. Very wounded. If I didn’t know you better then I might not have picked up on the pause. You tore your wrists with your fangs…” Spike looked almost insulted “I mean _really_.You taught me that trick, you fucking moron….said that the bloodstained and helpless routine worked well with my delicate features…”

There was a velvet chuckle on the other side of those bars that sounded far too fucking familiar. "Oh now, William... still does" he said, an obscene, deliberately sensual lilt to the threat.


	6. Chapter 6

There wasn’t a glowing light in his eyes, or a maniacal grin, or any of the twirling moustache style ‘tells’ that they used in the cinema to denote a bona fide psychopath. He just seemed….more confident. More self assured. More…magnetic, somehow. Empathy was clearly not an essential component of charm.

 “I also taught you that discretion is the better part of valour, did I not?” asked the vampire asked, running his hands over the bars with deceptive gentleness. “William… you could have kept that our little secret, and made ourselves a new friend to play with…she’s pretty, isn’t she? Reminds me of how you used to be…. Shy, retiring, unassuming…Aside from the fact that she’s known the touch of a woman, which was more than could have been said for you, back then..“

Willow realised that it was an act and dropped her gaze, concentrating on wiping herself free of mouse blood with a packet of antibacterial wipes.

“Don’t bother on my account…”came a dark purr from the older vampire. “I don’t mind if you don’t…” Spike saw the witch’s shoulders tighten, but she didn’t look up. Smart girl.

“Hey, now... no need to be like that, little girl” he continued, sliding down to his knees in a single fluid motion which had Spike fixedly staring until almost forgot the crossbow in his hand. “Willow” he purred…. Look at me. I just want to talk. You do still _talk_ to men, don’t you?” he asked. Willow’s chin dropped slightly lower as she continued to put the ritualistic objects of her last spell away in preparation for the new one, replacing the red cloth with a white one; something Spike assumed had some occult significance.

The white cloth was slightly larger than the  other one, and when she began to unroll it, the orb which had been swaddled within it rolled toward her a little, as though even it didn’t want to get too close to the master sadist behind the bars.

“We’ll know when he’s Angel again” she said, looking up at Spike, and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “This baby will glow like a night light…he won’t be able to trick us” she said, sounding as though she were the one most in most need of this reassurance.

“Is that a fact?” Angelus asked with a smirk, then, quick as a flash his hand swept out, fully extended. Willow squealed and started back, and it was only then that Spike realised that it was a diversionary technique. He was trying to get Willow to scoot back enough to bunch the blanket toward him, and the instant she did his hand fell, catching the very edge of the white cloth and yanking it, and the orb atop it, toward him.

Shit, thought Spike as he watched Angelus twisted and roll his wrist, sending the crystalline ball dancing round his hand deftly before crushing it in his hand. The blood welled up around the shards and Spike hissed softly, the scent nothing short of torment for one who had spent the week getting used to drinking nothing but pig’s blood.

“Oops” he said with a wicked chuckle. “I hope you kept the receipt.”

“I got it from ebay” Willow whispered to Spike, seeing the look of devastation on his face. “it cost about thirty dollars. I’ll have a new one within the week.”

Angelus laughter rang out, as he turned his back on them, retreating to the back of the cell once more. “A lot can happen in a week…” he said, the smirk on his face the only thing visible, as though he were some sort of nightmare hell-world version of the Cheshire cat. We’re all mad here, thought Spike, his heart sinking. A week with Angel soulless was a week too long.


	7. Chapter 7

Two days later an orb was dispatched from Spain, and all they had to do was wait. Spike tried to tell himself that he was honouring his promise, and that Angel only wanted him to get drastic if it looked like Willow was incapable of bringing his soul back, not because of a minor equipment failure, but he still felt cowardly.

Spike had pretty much banned anyone else from going down into the basement in the mean-time, but couldn’t quite bring it to himself to stay away. Angelus was like a tooth that he couldn’t stop poking with his tongue.

“William, my favourite disappointment. Back so soon?” his lover all but whispered. It was a trick to bring him closer, Spike knew. Not so that he could attack him, but because the ability to hold another’s attention was a form of power, and psychopath caged within his metal prison was probably going through some sort of power withdrawal.

“Angel” he said with a bright smile, tossing in a flask of cold blood. “You know I can’t stay away from you for too long”. This was his latest tactic with the provocative monster; deflecting everything with an understanding smile

“Not Angel…. You might not get Angel back ever again, boy” came the response. “I might just bleed myself out before then…not because I won’t be able to stand being trapped away, but just….” The elder vampire approached the bars, caressing them with a sensuality that sent a shiver up the blonde’s spine “to have the satisfaction of hurting you one…last….time”

Spike found it impossible to resist a challenge from Angelus, and this battle of wits was almost as old as his immortal blood. “You keep saying that, but you’ve yet to throw back the blood I keep giving you. You’re not half so bloody self-destructive without your soul… you forget how well I know you, Angel”

The other’s fangs extended with a sharp snap. “I don’t doubt how well you know me, boy…. But I have to wonder how well you know... Him” the faint trace of contempt in his voice made it clear that he was referring to his souled self. “How much time have you spent with him, really…. Not as much as you’ve spent with me. You can’t just throw two random souls together and pray that they mesh…the smart money wouldn’t be on that at all, would it now, William? You think you love him…and god, you love like a wild animal, Will, I remember that…all power plays and passion, and possessive loyalty…god, you were magnificent. But all you love in him is the memory of me. You haven’t even bothered to get to know him. Want to know why? Because he’s the cover version of your favourite song. The acoustic version. Sooner or later you’re going to miss the beat…and the beatings. How much are you going to hurt when you realise that he hates himself too much to give you half what you crave. What you need. You never stopped wanting me. I was always the father you never had…or never had you. You’re petulant, and impulsive and attention seeking…. You know what I taste when I bite into you?”

“Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows?” Spike asked, sarcastically. Why couldn’t he just walk back upstairs, outside of Angelus’ damage range?

Artfully exploited truths Spike thought…why hadn’t he seen this coming?

“Daddy issues… “ chuckled the older vampire. “He doesn’t want you…. Your pretty face reminds him of every act of violence he’s ever inflicted upon it….and when he realises how good those memories are for you, how much you crave it….. he’s going to feel sick, just being in the same room as you, and you’ll realise that sending me away was the biggest mistake you ever made. No one can hurt you that way I can, Will, and we both know it.”

Spike shook his head, and shrugged. “That’s bollocks” he replied, with a theatrically wide smile. “Might have worked on me if I were a sweet little human piece who bought into this ‘thee and me’ act that you like to keep going. But I know exactly what the soul does and doesn’t do, and where the line between demon and man lies. It’s not like having another person who comes out to play. It’s not the poncey letters put on the end of your name. Its all one big tapestry.” Spike came closer to the bars, shaking his head.

“I know you Angel… all of you. I know about the fact you keep a copy of Justine in a pillowcase in the bottom of your sock drawer. I know its a copy of a version that was a present from Darla. I know that you’re secretly flattered that I went after Buffy… you think that I was trying to emulate you, because you love to play daddy as much as you love the idea that I’m really just a lost little boy, and sometimes you want to raise me up big and strong and sometimes you want to break me into pieces. I know that’s why you took me in this last time. I know that its your perfectionism that makes you throw up this big artificial fence between ’Angel’ and ‘Angelus’…you can only stand to be thought of as the worst sadist, or the most noble hero… you just have too much bloody arrogance to be mediocre at anything you do. But when this particular little voice in your head quietens down you’ll have heard me say all this, and you'll know that I know yo and love you and then we’re going to be very fucking happy together, so settle down, Angel-arse.”

He turned around, and was halfway to the stairs when Angel whistled; sharp and sudden, the way that one might summon a dog. “Oh, William….if I’m still Angel then you still have obligations to honour…. You don’t belong to yourself anymore, you remember that…you answer to me now. You accepted my blood willingly and now you’re bound to me, pretty boy. I’m eager to collect. You can start by coming and giving me a little kiss.” The older vampire grabbed his crotch in an obscene gesture. “For all you know the minute that I get a soul I’ll be on a plane to see Buffy…. orthe next time you offer yourself to me I might just hate myself too much to take you up on it.

Spike froze. He’d almost won. But Angelus was good, far better with words than he had ever been. Words were his weapon, words and strategy, the way that Drusilla’s power to charm had been her weapon and his own had always been his sheer bloody mindedness and the ability to take a punch or two.

“Come on, Spike… bring that slender throat to my lips”

“Do you think I have a death wish?” Spike asked, turning round.

The older vampire chuckled, meeting his gaze with an intensity which damn near had him tripping over his feet. “I know you do, boy. Its why you love me” he replied smoothly, and for a moment the younger vampire just stopped and stared, only to drop the crossbow, and all but flying across the room; nothing more important than meeting those seductive lips. Madness, utter madness, but he’d always loved to live dangerously, and it wasn’t as though he was carrying the key on him….though if he had he wasn’t sure whether it would have made a blind bit of difference. Damn his lack of impulse control!


	8. Chapter 8

Angel was laughing triumphantly as his boy came to him. More than anything in the world he loved the feeling of having won. Corruption was the ultimate power one could have over another. And though Dru was a true masterpiece Spike managed to remain so unbroken, so impressively resistant that every act of submission seemed to be hard earned, each an individual triumph of his will. It was beautiful.

Spike's face was bearing whatever pitiful remains of his demon remained, eyes golden and fierce as a tiger’s, pushed up against the bars so hard there was probably going to be bruises and when the blonde’s eager mouth crushed against his he didn’t trouble to retract his fangs.. No, this was not going to the rose petals and scented candles reunion that he’d promised the lad. A century old little Spikey might be, but that still made him half his age. What were the rules of coupling that Cordelia had told him? Half your age plus seven? Well that must make him some sort of immoral predator he thought to himself as he took hold of the other’s bottom lip between his teeth, tearing it away rather biting through as he had done a few nights previous. That drew a whimper from the younger vampire that had him growling in satisfaction.

Such a pretty face, he thought, as he broke off from biting to admire his handiwork. I should do something about that, he thought to himself. A boy walking with such fine bones, sweet as a maid’s… well that was inviting all kinds of trouble.

“There’s only so much I can hurt you with these bars in my way” Angelus pointed out, and the younger vampire shrugged. “Pfft. You’re the artist. Improvise” he replied, already throwing t-shirt over his head to expose the finest canvas his sire had ever had the pleasure to work with. “I’m not for letting you out, I just want to give you a good send off. Something that you’ll remember”

He didn’t even have to order the boy to his knees, he dropped like a stone before he'd even finished speaking, his rapidly working hands sending the button from his fly skittering to the floor. On other occasions he’d have had the boy pay for that –wasn’t respectful at all, making an assumption like that- but this was something of a special night, and besides it was the blonde’s mouth he wanted. His reclaimed childe had better be wise enough not to deny him or heaven help him.

“That’s it, boy. You take it…” he breathed, then chuckled wickedly. One hand wrapped in the younger vampire’s hair, the other held out his cock. Spike looked up expectantly, face shifting from demonic to something more accommodating. The expression on his face when saw the cruel gaze above him was priceless. 

“Christ on a fucking bike” the childe growled in complaint once he realised he wasn't being allowed any closer, and he considered the deal that was on offer briefly, but after no more than a moment’s hesitation he was obligingly fighting, pulling against the restraining hand until he’d left a handful of bleached blonde hair in his sire’s palm. “That’s it. Prove yourself. Show me that soul hasn’t diminished your hunger, my boy”.

Spike was the sort of stubborn little shit that would bite off on an uninvited cock in his mouth and it didn’t matter if you held a stake to his heart while you did it, but he knew the lad well. His William had always been orally fixated even by vampire standards, and there was hunger on his face as he took his sire’s cock to the back of his throat and started sucking with the unashamed enthusiasm of a true libertine. Nice to know that the threat of deprivation still worked so much more effectively than physical punishment, he thought, filing this information away for later and allowing himself to simply enjoy the cold but eager mouth servicing him. It had been too long, too long by fucking far. Celibacy was self-deprivation’s most vicious foot soldier, and things were so much simpler when the only dilemma facing him was where to shoot his load.

The face was good for the visuals, but if he timed himself right then he could choke the blonde and watch him forget that he didn’t even need to breathe. The boy would wear his spunk with pride, he thought to himself… and where was the fun in that. No, he went for the option that would make the young vampire suffer; forcing his head down abruptly and filling his throat. No escape offered, no mercy given. And Spike went wild as he always did, torso racked with shudders, hands lifting to fight himself free. His eyes were wide and his chest rose and fell rapidly, giving every impression of having been half killed. He looked so disheveled, so accusing that Angelus had to laugh. Was it coming out of his nose? Why yes, he believed it was, if not spunk then his own choked on saliva. No wonder the blonde looked so pissy. You could crush Will’s throat and he’d laugh at you until all that came out was a rasping wheeze, but once you started with liquids he panicked just like a human. Angelus would have sold the apartment out from under them for a simple bucket of water at that moment.

“Now I remember why I haven’t killed you yet…” he whispered almost lovingly.


	9. Chapter 9

He took a moment to remember how to breathe again, then another to remember that he didn’t have to. Well that was…intense, he thought to himself as he slid himself back away from the other’s reach, sanity returning with crystal clarity. “You want me to hate myself for this, don’t you?” Spike asked. Angelus said nothing, which was probably a sign that he had nothing clever to say. “Well I don’t…. Feeling quite good about it. Probably be spitting bodily fluids out my sinuses for a few days, but I needed a bit of R&R. This being such a stressful week, and all…”

Angel sat back, pants still lay open in a display of lazy indulgence that Spike could definitely have gotten used to seeing daily. But he looked triumphant. Very triumphant.

“Always so selfish…” he admonished mockingly. “But I’m glad that you had so much fun traumatising your beloved soul-mate” he spat the word as though it were the dirtiest of insults.

Spike blinked, and Angelus seized upon his confusion in a grotesque parody of concern.

“You took advantage of someone in a vulnerable state” he explained, wagging his finger “When he was…out of his mind…lowered inhibitions, not really in a position to know… I wouldn’t be surprised if I feel positively _violated_ in the morning” he held hand on heart. “Honestly Spikey… Didn’t you get a soul to try and stop you from raping your nearest and dearest? I think maybe you’re owed a refund on that tattered little scrap of whatever passes for a soul you went and got yourself. I think it might be broken…. Maybe it always was, I don’t know..”

Spike’s face froze, hand slowly rising to rub his nose. What have I done? he thought, a cold, sick feeling spreading from his stomach. How could I not have thought….

“What’s your body count? Since you decided that you were going to go and become a real boy?”

Spike didn’t answer, but Angelus could see him doing internal calculations, and knew his point had been made. “So…. Murder of a teenage mother…. Drained some sort of… girl, boy? I lost track…stopped caring. Didn’t see why I should, you clearly didn’t…and now you can’t even look after your own lover… taking advantage when I’m all caged up and don’t really know any better…can’t really know any better.” Angelus’ laughter was all sandpaper and razors. “I’d never fuck you if I had any capacity for remorse…how could you not have known that? You’re a monster…and you’re going to be a lonely, guilty little monster soon”

The younger vampire’s head was reeling, completely unable to form any sort of response. His instincts told him just to run, and that’d what he did, taking the stairs two at a time and slamming the door behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

Artfully exploited truths… those were always the worst. “Fuck’s sake” he mumbled aloud. How the fuck had he walked into that one? How the hell hadn’t that entered his mind? The possibility of getting hot and heavy with Angel with all the safety guards off…. It had certainly entered his mind, but as wank fodder, not a seriously entertained possibility. His soul was only supposed to be gone a minute, he thought. With Willow as a chaperone, the whole time. This was not in the list of eventualities that he’d been expecting, and his spur of the minute decision making skills had never been all that. Which doesn’t make it alright, he told himself. Maybe… maybe he wasn’t cut out for this… trying to live like a man, maybe even a bloody champion, whatever they’re supposed to do.

                He grabbed his duster from the closet. Probably have Angel to thank for that, he thought to himself. Pretty sure that I left it crumpled up on the floor. Well, that’s the last mess that he’s going to clean up for me. I’m out of here, before I can fuck anything else up.

He got a few blocks before he passed a liquor store. Almost passed a liquor store. He was supposed to be cutting down on his drinking while he sorted his shit out; Angel had told him that lowered inhibitions were not going to be his best mate right now, and he’d kind of taken his point at the time, but fuck it. He needed something to take the taste away, metaphorically more than literally, but at this minute probably both.

“Ten Marlboro and… whatever’s cheap” he waved his hand at the various spirits behind the counter. “Hang on… gin. Some sorta gin” he decided. Gin might have a different image attached to it now, but back in his day it wasn’t for yuppies and old ladies. Time was it was the first point of call for any self-unrespecting Whitechapel alcoholic… more Bill Sykes than Betty fucking White. Him and gin had a bit of a history, the cause and cure of many of his problems… he switched from brandy to gin after he’d been turned…not right after though. It wasn’t until he’d gotten out of the store that he remembered. He’d started drinking gin after he’d staked his mother, around the same time as he’d changed his name and gone after everyone who’d mocked him, which was, truth be told, a depressing amount of people.

One suitably deserted alley way later and he was more than a little drunk, and drunkard’s philosophising had began to kick in. Gin was probably like…leather pants were to Angel, he decided. Its not that there’s anything inherently evil about leather pants. Practical, wipe clean… but they clearly meant something particular to him, and when he put them it always seemed to be because he was committing to being bad. God help anyone who decides to take a shortcut down here, he thought. Because I was clearly not cut out to be good.

Reaching into his inside pocket, where he kept his lighter his hand brushed a folded piece of paper. Curious he pulled it out. Nope, didn’t remember putting that in at all…he’d never fold anything that neatly… bet he knew someone who would though, he thought as he unfolded it.

_If you’re reading this then the chances are it’s because you’ve left. If it’s because you’ve had to do what needed to be done then know that I’m proud of you. I asked you because you’re the strongest person I know._

_If it’s because of something that I’ve said or done I want the chance to talk to you about it. Whatever’s happened while I’m not myself… I’m sorry. Come home and let me tell you in person, at least?_

_A_

He always found it eerie when someone demonstrated their ability to predict him. Not in the way that Dru did, that was supernatural… but when someone really got in his head it gave him the willies. Shit…he thought. If Angel was man enough to give him an apology to his face, then he had to do the same, didn’t he? Had to go back and face the bloody music, and whatever anger, or upset, or disappointment waited then he’d just have to take it.


	11. Chapter 11

When he got back Willow was still awake. She hadn’t been sleeping well; something about having a soulless monster in the basement seemed to make her jumpy. She hadn’t been half as jumpy with him, when he was chipped, he remembered. Angelus must have gotten to her really badly, back in Sunnydale. Something much more personal than a mere failed attempt at snacking then. He didn’t need to know what, he knew enough about the other’s style to know it probably wasn’t pleasant.

“Where’d you go?” she asked, all pep, but it was clear from something in her eyes she’d been nervous. Hadn’t been fair, leaving her alone in the house with his lordship for so long.

“Needed a bit of a break is all.” He shrugged. “Bastard got to me.”

“What did he say?” Willow asked, finishing her glass of milk. “Oops. There I go with the inappropriate personal questions again. And now I’m with the microwaving a mug of blood and the shutting up. Better?” she asked, having clearly interpreted his expression as it was intended.

“I need to ask you a favour…” he started. He was planning on telling her that he couldn’t go down to the basement anymore, but then thought about what he was saying. Sending a tasty little thing like her… asking for trouble, that. Even if she managed to avoid getting chomped Angelus would probably be quick to run his mouth, and bad as things were they would probably be worse if Angelus had his way. “I need you to stay out of the basement until we’re ready to do this ritual again. He’s saying stuff that I don’t need you hearing”

“Can do.” She smiled shyly “I…didn’t want to go down there anyway, but kind of thought I should offer to take over. You look so upset and… in a manly way” she added quickly, nodding sagely.

“Yeah, I know. Regular James Dean, I am” he said, amused by the attempt to rub his ego. He must have looked a state for her to have felt the need.

“It won’t be long now, then we’ll have that soul popped right back in and stuck down.” She said consolingly, then did the weirdest thing of giving him a hug. “It’s nice he has someone who isn’t giving up on him. People need that”

“He’s doing the same for me” he replied. “It’s….a thing we’re doing for each other.” He said with another shrug. “You should get some rest. I’ll be staying up, keeping watch”

She smiled. “G’night… Oh, Spike?” he looked up. “Microwaved pinged a while ago. You should probably drink that…don’t want nibbled in my sleep!” she giggled as though it were the funniest thing in the world and with that was gone. How did Angel manage to be around people who didn’t realise the amount of will that went into ensuring that things like that didn’t happen? No wonder he was so bloody broody.


	12. Chapter 12

“Hello lover…. Guess what? I brought you a present” Spike called down into the basement, descending the stairs more cheerfully than Angelus would have expected given their last conversation. “And we even managed to pick up a spare in case of any more accidents. Willow has that one upstairs. She’s going to be performing the ritual upstairs, just so you can’t cause her any grief.”

Angelus looked up and there was something in his eyes that the blond hadn’t really seen before. Fear. Genuine fear. Not manipulation, not playing games. He was genuinely afraid and trying to hide it.

“ Please don’t do this” he said simply, turning his back on the other vampire and resting his face against the wall. “You’re condemning me to hell with this. And I’m saying that as someone whose actually been there. So I’m asking you not to do this. No games, no bullshit… just me, asking you to have…mercy…or pity…or…compassion…or respect.” he waved a hand as though they were terms he’d read in a textbook but had no personal experience of “Whatever it would take to get you to spare me this. One single moment of happiness. In an entire century. One.  Even before I wasn’t going out of my way to avoid one. That’s hell, right there. Don’t condemn me to that again, my William. Not if you love me like you keep claiming”

Spike hadn’t expected anything so simple or heartfelt. There was a dollop of scheming there, course there was, and if there had been a more effective tactic he probably would have gone with that, no bloody doubt.

“Look… would you rather be kept in a cage?” he started but the other cut him off “Aye, I actually would. I’d be free in my own head, if nothing else”.

Not the response he’d hoped for. “And If you weren’t so dangerous then that might be an option, Angelus…but it's not” he said gently.

“What are you doing here then, boy?” he didn’t even look up, bitterly resigned but resentful of his fate.

Spike hesitated. He knew full well, but wasn’t sure how much mocking it was going to get him. What the hell, he thought. He’d tolerated worse. “Cause I knew you were going to be this cut up about it, even if I didn’t expect you to come out and admit it. And I didn’t want you going through it on your own” he said softly. “I told you I didn’t buy into the ‘thee and me’, Dr Jekyll and Mr Jackass act you’re so fond of. I love you. So I thought I’d come and be here for you through it.”

As expected Angelus laughed, turning now to observe the blond with something approaching incredulity. “You’re here to hold my hand?” he asked, and Spike shrugged.

Spike moved closer and sat against the bars. “If that’s what you fancy” he said simply. He could feel the other vampire prowling behind him, the metaphor of caged predator not lost on him at all. The silence stretched on for a long time before Angelus spoke again.

“Do you think she’s started?” he asked, trying not to sound anxious. He still could not comprehend how on earth the blonde could go through this willingly. It was torture on a scale that even he couldn’t fail to be impressed by, were he not the target.

The younger vampire looked at his cell phone, the only thing in his pocket. “Yeah, I’m afraid so. She was starting at eight. Its ten past now. ”

“Oh”. That simple little sound contained so much grief that Spike’s heart almost broke. “How much longer do I have?”.

“Dunno” the younger vampire said, then after a moment’s pause. “Not long, probably. Angelus?”

There was a quiet ‘mm’ behind him. “I won’t let a century pass before you’re happy again. I Promise. I’m going to give you all kinds of fun”

Angelus stopped. I should drain the little bastard right now, he thought to himself. I could curl up behind him and go right for his throat, and drink him until there was nothing left but dust. It was a means of killing a vampire which most people didn’t know, but it was just as effective as a stake in the heart and much more delicious. It would be quite the capture, if he could pull it off. William the bloody was be the epitome of a trophy victim; the kind of prestigious kill that he would really be remembered for…. self-sabotage, he thought to himself. If he was going to be stuck with a soul then there were few enough pleasures left for him.

“You’d better, boy.” He growled.

“You’ll get your torture fix. Promise” the blond turned around and gave him a lopsided smile, extending his hand.

Angelus smiled, taking it. “You’re too kind, my William” he said, and in an instant he had his other arm wrapped around the younger vampire’s wrist. A quick sudden pressure and there was an audible snap; and the shock and pain on the other vampire’s face was nearly as beautiful as the sickened moan which accompanied it. Nausea always seemed to kick in when someone sees one of their limbs at a really unnatural angle, even with vampires. “Now take your sympathy and get out before I kill you for what you’re doing to me”


	13. Chapter 13

Spike curled in on himself and rolled away from the other vampire, glad that Angelus had released his arm, and he hadn’t had to rip himself loose from his grasp. That sort of thing wasn’t easy on a broken bone.

Glaring up at his sire with amber eyes and ferocious features he growled. The desire to get inside that cell and beat the almighty shit out of the sadistic bastard was too strong to resist…which, was why he hadn’t brought the keys down with him. Not just a pretty face, after all.

Angelus, for his part, was having trouble sticking to his dismissal, and would have been disappointed indeed if the younger vampire had left. He was still angry, but the blonde’s visible agony was like a soothing balm on the betrayal he was feeling. Spike could take punches, bruises and bites all night long, but broken bones were a little harder to shrug off, and he really wanted it to count.

“Oh laugh it up; by morning you’ll be bandaging it up…kissing it better…” he cradled his arms and tried to swallow any noise. “Done me a favour really…this makes us even”

Angelus looked explosively angry, but whatever he was about to say or do was cut off by a sudden gasp, and he stumbled, clutching the bars. When he looked up again his vision was unfocused, hazy. “Spike?” he asked, foggily.

The blonde didn’t get up. “You’ll understand why I might be an eensy bit sceptical, don’t you, love?” he asked. “You have already tried this one before, and you do have a bit of a reputation of getting kicks from playing with broken bones….” He looked at the stricken expression on his sire’s face, and was pretty much certain that it was genuine. “I don’t have the keys with me anyway. I'll go and check on Willow, see how she's getting alone and I’ll be back to get you out as soon as I can with keys.”

It wasn’t until the door shut behind him that he realised that he'd fled the room like a coward. Not on the off chance that he was wrong and there was a sociopathic monster in there trying to play upon his sympathies, or even because said sociopathic monster had broken his arm, but because he was afraid to face Angel again after what he’d done.


	14. Chapter 14

As it turned out Willow needed a bit of bandaging up, and the orb lay out in front of her, cracked in two, like an egg. “Everything alright?” he asked, sounding a bit anxious but she nodded. “Aurelius is a _lot_ more mean when you’re trying to take something back!” she said, wide eyed. “But I did it. I said Mr Demon, can we have our ball back please? Except instead of ball I said soul. And please…not really cutting it. More ‘I charge thee in the name of the champion’….but it all worked out in the end. I got Angel back so er…” she blinked, noticing that Spike’s arm was bending in ways that it really shouldn’t. The fact that the left handed vampire was heavily favouring his right was lost on her but she knew that wrists didn’t look like that. “Going away present from Angelus” he said simply, not willing to get into anything more complicated with the redhead. “It’ll heal”.

Willow grabbed some bandages and gestured for him to give her his arm but he shook his head. “Nah, give them here. Old Fag-face will want to patch me up. Make him feel better. All about the atonement, and all that. Which reminds me, best get back down there” He explained, taking up the supplies and heavy set of keys. “Get some rest. And Willow?” he said, over his shoulder. “This means a lot. To him and to me. Thanks, pet. We both owe you big time, so if you ever need anything…don’t be a stranger”

She smiled. “Go check on him already. You’re getting all twitchy” she said, making shooing gestures with her hands.


	15. Chapter 15

“Hey Angel-cake…got the all clear on letting you out. Something about ‘time off for good behaviour’” Spike joked, but there was a brittle quality to his tone belying the casualness of his words.

Angel was sat on the floor when Spike returned, curled into the darkest corner of the cell. Silent, worryingly so, he didn’t so much as turn around when Spike unlocked the door. He wanted to approach his sire, but couldn’t see creeping up on him in the dark going well for either of them, so he simply opened the door and went to sit on the inside.

 Eventually Angel looked up, trying to blink away his disorientation. “I thought about killing you. A lot” he said quietly.

“Pfft. You’d never go that far.” Spike’s amusement was palpable even in the shadows. “Never” he sounded so completely self assured that Angel was baffled. “I’d be a lot less fun to play with if I fit in a dust-buster. Nah… killing me would mean that you’d gotten bored, and that, my love is never going to happen.”

Un-fucking-believable! He’d never known anyone quite so resilient; or so impossible to intimidate. Which of course was why his wayward childe was entirely right, but god, the audacity of him. “Just come here.” He said with a long suffering sigh, and the blond immediately complied.

Angel took the first aid kit from him, laid it by his own feet and just put his arms around the younger vampire, rocking him lightly and stroking his hair, all light touches and tenderness. He knew full well that Spike didn’t need swaddling up like a child, but he was deeply grateful for the chance to prove his humanity regardless. “There’s my boy…here, let me see that arm..” he whispered soothingly. His lover’s shoulders tensed, wariness creeping into his features for the first time, and the older vampire felt it as though he’d been slapped. What did he expect, when he himself had broken it?

After a moment of hesitation the injured man held it out. “Sorry” he replied “It’s just… setting it is going to hurt like a bitch no matter how careful you are, and I’m already knackered”. And you were the one who broke it, he added mentally, knowing that saying as much would be unfair, but also unnecessary; it wasn’t like Angel might have forgotten.

He wasn’t wrong, it did hurt, and much as Spike had built up his resistance to pain over the past century there was something about holding out an injury and letting someone prod at it that was just so antithetical to his instincts that the effort of just allowing it to happen had him near biting through his lip. 

The older vampire, for his part worked with gentle efficiency. “You should have a cast on this. I can call in a favour with a half demon girl I know. She’s a nurse, she could do this properly” he said, sighing when Spike shook “No one else is touching it” he said adamantly. “Not tonight, at least. It’ll heal.” Angel wasn’t sure why the younger vampire felt better giving it to him, but it was his damn body, he supposed. And he was free to be as stupid and reckless with it as he wished; something he abused the privilege with far too often.

It wasn’t until his wrist was both securely bound and away from the other’s hands that Spike decided to try and talk to him. “Did I take advantage?” he asked, eventually.

“Not really. Did I want the first time in a century to be like that? No. I had something a little more meaningful than that in mind… but I’m choosing to take things in the spirit that it was offered. A going away present.” He said. That was easier to explain than the fact that Spike willingly put himself in the path of his unsoulled appetites was making him feel better about the couple of decades he’d spent inflicting sexual violence on him as a whole.

The relief on the younger vampire’s face was touching. “I probably would have left, if it weren’t for that note” he admitted, and Angel smiled. “Well bloody predicted, otherwise I might have gone way off the rails myself”.

“Spike?”

“Mm?”

“Why did you tell me you loved me, even when I was…like that?” he asked.

“Did you stop loving me, or Dru, or Darla after you were cursed?” he asked, and Angel blinked as though he hadn’t considered this before. “Of course I didn’t, but…”

“There’s your answer then. Or as much as an answer as you’re getting. Now feed me, you angsty poof. You need both hands to get into those packets, and I’m one down”

“Fine” he said, shaking his head at the sudden shift in mental gears. Ever the pragmatist, his boy. So resilient, so strong; which didn’t seem to leave much space for introspection. That was alright though, he was looking forward to learning some of that whole ‘live in the moment’ thing that the blond had going for him. ‘You’ll still get your torture fix’ the blond had promised, and heaven help him he was ashamed to admit how much he was looking forward to it.


End file.
